“One of them certainly got your attention. Which one?”
“The gorgeous woman with the purple curls is the one I was just telling you about earlier. Lyra.”
His eyes widen. “Are you shitting me? Why are you still sitting here? Go over there and say hello!” I roll my eyes and shake my head at him. “Let me at least give them a minute before I go interrupt their night, man.”
Turns out a minute is too long, because I see a guy sidle up to Lyra and say something. She smiles politely but it doesn't reach her eyes, shaking her head with what looks like a “no, thanks” on her lips. I can't hear her with the band. She turns back to her friend when he puts his hand on her shoulder to get her attention again. This time her smile is gone as she turns back to him, and I'm moving without thinking. I see him gesture and her scowl deepen. As I reach them I hear her say, “I’m just here with my friend, I already said no politely. I'm about to not be polite if you put your hand on me again.” Her voice is ice cold, but man do I love it. Sneering at her one last time, he slinks away with the proverbial tail between his legs. No need for me to rush over like her white knight at all, apparently. Still, now her eyes slide to me, and they go wide with shock as she takes me in.
“Didn't recognize me without my uniform, did you?” I tease in greeting. She huffs a small laugh, shaking her head. “What are you doing here?” she asks.
"I met up with my best friend for a couple of drinks after work. That's him over there,” I say as I point to Carlo. He gives a smug little wave, then motions that he's heading out and he'll text me. Now her best friend is at her side,tilting her head as she pierces me with her eyes suspiciously.
"Who's your friend, Lyra?"
"Gina, meet Taran. Taran, this is my BFF, Gina,” she says on a sigh.
Gina instantly transforms, grinning like the Cheshire cat, as if my name means something. Someone has been talking about me, it seems. I couldn't be happier about it, and my smile must show it. Tonight is really my lucky night. I was planning on just about leaving, but that is not happening now that she's shown up. This is the perfect opportunity to shoot my shot if she'll let me.
Chapter 5
Lyra
What are the odds? Gina was insistent on bringing me here to have a drink and enjoy the live music. She loves it. Her husband Wayne's family owns it. Taran comes here, though? It seems like he's everywhere since the day I met him. Gina elbows me, because I'm just standing here staring at him dumbfounded. Taran's mouth is barely holding back a smile before he asks, “What areyoudoing here, Lyra?” Gina jumps in with undisguised pride. “My in-laws own this place. I brought her here to cheer her up. I heard you hugged it out with her when you saw her upset.” Taran's eyes flit between us, clearly unsure whether he is in trouble or not. Finally I find my voice. “Thank you for that, Taran. It meant a lot.” Gina, going for her usual subtlety, backs away saying, “I’m going to see if my brother-in-law is here to say hello, you two have fun.” Then she freaking winks at me before she turns away. I look over to Taran, who is staring at me with both amusement and wariness.
“Sorry, she's as discreet as a bulldozer,” I tell him to try to bring some levity. He chuckles. It's a little worrying howmuch I like the sound. I'm trying to be subtle in taking him in without his uniform. The shirt he is wearing has short sleeves, giving me more of a view of his well muscled arms than I’ve seen before. A little bit of ink peaks out from the sleeve on his right arm, and I’m intrigued. Tattoos are my absolute weakness. I don't feel right asking about such a personal thing yet, though. The way his jeans mold to his legs should be illegal. Fuck, I need to stop panting over this man like a horny teenager, it's insane.
“I don't mind being alone with you, Lyra. Not at all.”
My heart thrums wildly at that, but the stupid inner voice that is always there is telling me to not believe him. I'm not quite sure how to respond, but I know I didn't like the feeling when he left earlier. So I go with some honesty to smooth things over.
“Listen, I'm sorry if I came off as nasty when you left my house earlier.” This is so not easy, but he deserves this. I'm looking anywhere but at him. “I was pretty raw and upset when you came to the door, and I went cold by the time you left.” When I finally look at him for a response, he gives me a soft smile. “I’m sorry too, if I overstepped. I just didn't like seeing you that upset.”
Who is this guy? I was bitchy and he is actually worried he overstepped? Women can have boundaries? Not only that, but he’s handsome, kind, charming, and loves dogs. If someone hasn’t already pulled his DNA from a hairbrush or something to start cloning him, I want to be the first. “You didn't overstep. You've been nothing but nice to me, not to mention my dog.” It is getting more and more embarrassing to talk about this. I feel myself going a little red in the cheeks, staring at my shifting feet on the floor.
In a way that makes me feel like he actually sees me starting to spiral, he abruptly asks, “Do you like to dance?”
That snaps my head up to look at him, searching his face for a joke or insincerity. I don't find anything of the kind. His face is open and almost hopeful. “I love dancing. You like to dance?” My tone is somewhere between incredulous and dubious. He gives me one of his blinding smiles. “It's one of my favorite things. How about we leave whatever made you so upset out on the dance floor?”
He offers me his hand, and before my mind can catch up with my body, I'm taking it. My breath catches a little as he brings me into a hold, the heat and hard lines of his body making mine light up like a Christmas tree. One hand is firmly on the small of my back, while the other holds mine as we begin the steps. The band is still playing a faster cumbia. I've hung around Wayne's family enough to be able to hold my own, but Taran is a whole new revelation. We're not completely pressed together, but he's holding me close enough to easily lead me. Feeling his shoulder and arm muscles rippling underneath my palms, and the strong way they hold me is dangerously amazing. Our hips and feet fall into an easy rhythm, and I find myself melting into him. This. This is exactly what I need. It feels so incredibly good to get out of my loud thoughts, and let the music completely take over my body. This is why I love dancing. It was therapy for me growing up, and the perfect way to express myself.
I look at Taran, and he's looking at me with this pure joy on his face. He leans in close so I can hear him over the band.
“You're an incredible dancer, Lyra!” I can't help but give him a smile at the obviously genuine compliment.
“Not as good as you.”
He shakes his head in denial. “Have you taken lessons?”
“From when I was 5 up through college,” I tell him. “Idid all kinds. Tap, jazz, ballet, modern, lyrical, hula, Maori, flamenco, you name it.”
“Of course you did,” he says with that gorgeous smile, shaking his head like he's somehow amazed by me.
“What about you?” I need to know how he moves so well. We're inching even closer together now to talk. It's close enough that the most tantalizing combination of warm spice and clean linen fills my nose. He smells way too good.
“I grew up doing Irish dancing, and joined the dance team in High School. Carlo and his family taught me cumbia.” I mirror his amazed head shake back at him.
The band switches to a softer, slower song, and Taran raises an eyebrow at me in question. I hesitate, then just tell myself, “fuck it,” and nod. I let him pull me closer, and we start swaying to the slow, sensual rhythm. We fit together so perfectly, even though he's almost a foot taller than me. I pull back just a little to look up at Taran, and he's watching me intently. He opens his mouth, closes it, seems to weigh his words, and then opens it again as he leans in close, his lips almost brushing the shell of my ear. “Lyra, I know you said I'd have better luck elsewhere, so if I'm being pushy you have every right to kick my ass. I'm also not sure what your situation is. What I am sure of is that I like talking to you, and want to get to know you better. I'd love to take you out some time if you'd be interested.”
My body shivers a little of its own accord with his breath tickling my ear. I try and take a beat to gather my muddled thoughts, without making him wait forever and feeling rejected. Because I don't want to reject him, I just can't do anything romantic with another man at this moment in my life.
